


Remember

by elmarbear



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Family, Father Son Bonding, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Loyalty, Sorrow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 06:26:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1418354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elmarbear/pseuds/elmarbear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten memories Louis XIV has of Aramis</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hat

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Unfortunately the lovely Musketeers do not belong to me!

1\. His father is holding a banquet in honour of his fifth birthday and he has been brought out like a show piece, his mother is steering him around the various nobles and he is trying to remember to bow and which foot goes forward and how to greet the men and women properly. It’s overwhelming and he is hot and tired. 

They break from greeting people and he has to stand on the spot, his nanny tells him not to fidget and suddenly he can’t help it, he bolts. He hears his mother’s call behind him but does not stop, ducking past the guards in blue he makes down past the royal quarters and through into the oldest part of the palace. A door is slightly ajar and he slips out, tiny fingers struggling to push it open enough to squeeze through. Now he can hear footsteps behind him, sharp and clipped they remind him those of the Cardinal and he runs all the faster, with his pointy chin and mean piggy eyes the Cardinal scares him.

Round the hedges and fountains and displays, he finally makes into a walled garden, the grass is soft and inviting and he finally stops. His breathe is burning his throat now and his legs hurt terribly, sitting down in the middle he attempts to wipe the tears from his face and looks sadly at his ruined shoes. He knows this garden, for it is where his mother used to bring him to play, before he started getting lessons and Nanny deemed playing a ‘silly practice’. 

A hum behind him alerts him to the fact he is not alone. Twisting round he watches one of the blue guards step into the garden, he wants to shout at him to go away, and let him play and have fun and be a boy, but he doesn’t know this man and curiosity stops him. 

The man is tall, perhaps even taller than his father, and has dark curly hair not unlike his own poking out from under a pale hat with a feather on it. He has a musket in his belt, and the pommel of a rapier is visible on his hip. He imagines this man has secret knives in his boots and daggers up his sleeves, just like the soldiers in the stories his mother tells him. 

The man moves towards him but stops short when Louis curls away and instead sits on the short grass. He removes his hat and carefully places it beside himself, untying his blue cape from his shoulder and pushing it away, then he removes his boots, wiggling his toes in the breeze. Next he takes a rifle off his back and lays that down beside his hat, before pulling his musket from his belt. Finally he shrugs off his long leather jacket to reveal a pale undershirt. Frowning slightly, Louis squints at the necklace he man wears, it reminds him off…

“I have a necklace like that!” He claps his hands over his mouth, he isn’t supposed to shout out! To his surprise though, the man merely laughs. It’s an easy, honest laugh, and Louis struggles not to laugh in return. 

Standing up on the grass, he kicks his own boots and socks off, then also removes his jacket for good measure, throwing it away from himself with a grunt. He waits for the guard to reprimand him, remind him of his duties as the prince, but the guard does no such thing, and merely smiles again, turning his tanned face to catch more of the sun as he cleans his musket. Louis smiles as the cool breeze seeps through his shirt and ruffles his hair, 

Building up his courage, Louis asks a question, rocking back on his heels as he does so,

“What is your name Sir Knight?” 

The guard looks sad for a second, and stares at Louis so long he begins to feel uncomfortable, running his hand through his dark locks he tries again,

“Sir?”

The brown eyes meet brown eyes and the guard smiles, 

“Aramis, Louis, my name is Aramis.” 

Louis ponders for a moment, tipping his head to one side and the man returns to his work. Dragging his feet across the grass he walks until he is standing right next to this Aramis, and drops cross legged to the ground, baby hands reaching out for the hat, he pauses momentarily, looking for conformation that this alright. Aramis smiles and Louis gently picks up the hat with a grin of delight, lowering it onto his own head and squealing when it covers his eyes. 

“Ahhh, a little big for you I think,” Aramis’s low voice is a kind one, and large, warm hands touch his cheeks as the man tips the hat back from his eyes. “Perhaps we will have to find you a smaller one” Louis likes that idea. Actually, he rather likes this man. 

They spend at least an hour on the grass before they are interrupted. They play chase and Aramis lets him fire the musket, just once. He shows him how to load it and hold it, and Louis aims at a tree across the garden, hitting it almost dead centre. Aramis is so shocked that he doesn’t speak for a minute and Louis has to sit on him to make him start again. Finally the afternoon dissolves into bouts of wrestling, and when his mother walks through the arch he is sitting on Aramis’s chest with the hat still on his head and Aramis is pretending to be asleep. 

“Louis! There you are – I was getting worried!” Louis head jerks up at his mother’s voice and Aramis sits up so quickly Louis is almost vaulted from his chest, only strong arms reaching out stop him falling back. Confidently he stands up on Aramis’s lap, winding his hands into the man’s hair for balance. 

“Look Maman, this is Aramis – he let me wear his hat!”


	2. Hold me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis idolises Aramis and the other Musketeers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SirLancelotTheBrave and Deeannjay, I hope you both enjoy this chapter as much as you did the last! Also thanks to everybody who left Kudos :)

2\. It feels like they have been travelling forever, and the coach rocks uncomfortably under Louis as he sits. The trip to a manor in the south of France was a treat to celebrate the birth of his brother, but now the babe is crying, despite his mother and a nanny, and his father is ill, but waking up every few minutes to complain about the noise.  
Bored, Louis watches the Musketeers out the window. It’s the normal four accompanying them on this trip, Athos, Porthos, Aramis and d’Artagnan, and they are laughing about something as they ride.

  
Oh, what Louis would give to be out there riding with Aramis. Ever since the Musketeer had played with him in the gardens three years ago, Louis had taken quite a shine to him. The man was noble and brave and wise, everything Louis himself wanted to be, and he told the most amazing stories. Stories of battles and chases and gunfights. When Aramis was on guard duty of Louis’ rooms (which was often) he would sit with him and tell these stories, often speaking even as Louis drifted off to sleep.

  
Sighing loudly Louis twisted in his seat, being prince wasn’t all it was made out to be. It was boring and busy most of the time, and there was never enough time for riding or fencing in the evenings once he had finished his lessons. Carefully he began running through the moves Aramis had thought him last time he trained, and then moved on to the ones from the session with Athos, a week before that. He had vowed to himself he would be a king who could defend all his people someday, and that he wouldn’t be worthy until he could beat Athos in a fair fight.

  
He was all but lost to his thoughts when the carriage jerked to a stop. Peering out again he recognised an old manor belonging to some stuffy old Count they had visited the year before. Shouldering the door open before the guard got a chance to; Louis jumped out of the carriage and shrugged on his cloak, storming forward away from the crowd out to greet them to stand on the edge of the lawn. He breathed in deeply, enjoying the fresh air after hours in the carriage.

  
Turning he watches the Musketeers support his father as he steps from the carriage, frowning as they basically carry him into the manor, perhaps his father was more ill than expected.

  
The Nanny quickly hurries Philippe inside, and his mother only pauses briefly at the door to say something to the Musketeers, who are emerging again, presumably having deposited his father with somebody who knows where his rooms are. The group assembled to greet them looks confused and Louis feels a stab of nerves, is he expected to greet them by himself now?

  
He straightens his cloak and tries to flatten his hair, but the untidy mop he was blessed with stays true to form and springs back up again. He waits for the Musketeers to come back, Athos always knows what to do. Aramis greets him with a pat to the shoulder and Louis smiles in gratitude, these are his Musketeers, and just to have them nearby is a comfort to him now.

  
“Your Mother wishes you to greet the Count and his family”

  
Louis pulls a face at Porthos’ words,

  
“Do I have to? I can’t remember what to say.”

  
D’Artagnan laughs and Louis sends him a scowl

  
“Thank the Count for the invitation and his wife for her hospitality, then ask their sons if they would like to do some fencing practice with you.” It is Athos speaking now, Aramis once explained to him that Athos used to be a noble, making Athos the best person to listen to if you wanted to check if you were saying the right thing.

  
Louis nods, trying to remember, then stands up straighter, he will be king one day, and will have no Athos and Aramis to guide him then, self-consciously he tries to pat his hair down for a final time.

  
With a smile, Aramis removes his soft grey hat from his own head, and places it on Louis’ ,

  
“There, that should keep it down, the fit gets better all the time.”

  
Louis has to laugh at this, but it is true, the fabric does no longer slip down over his eyes. Somehow wearing the hat makes him feel bolder, and (after checking the musketeers will definitely not leave him), he steps forward confidently,

  
“Oh and Louis?” He looks sideways to Aramis as they cross the drive, “You can ride with me tomorrow.”

  
He can feel his face light up and cannot help it; he doesn’t have to spend another day in the stupid stuffy carriage!

  
Feeling like he is floating, Louis greet the Count and Countess perfectly, charming them with baby toothed smiles. After that the evening steadily improves, first he singlehandedly defeats all three boys, the youngest of whom is a year older than him, as they fight flamboyantly, but with no real talent for seeing the opportunities.

  
Then Athos duels him properly, not the flimsy fencing of the noble boys but proper duelling. Athos is obviously going easy, but the fight seems real enough to put fire in his veins and Aramis and D’Artagnan shouting tips from the sides just further excites him.

  
Finally, when Athos has had him on his back three or four times Louis concedes a gracious defeat and returns to the Royal quarters to eat dinner with his mother only, as his father has been deemed too ill. Settling down into bed Louis is asleep before his head hits the pillow.

  
The next morning Louis waits with Aramis as Athos and Porthos help his parents into their carriage. The sun shines on his bronzed skin and he still wears Aramis’ hat upon his head. The Royal escort mounts and Aramis helps him up onto the big black stallion first, before settling behind him.

  
The movement of the horse is so much more soothing than that of the carriage, and with Aramis warm and sturdy behind him, one arm around his torso, and Porthos’ deep voice telling stories of pirates and sea battles, Louis slowly drifts off to sleep, and thinks that he probably imagined the soft kiss pressed to his hair.


	3. Proud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aramis is a comfort to Louis after the death of the king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everybody who has given kudos and commented - it is what gives me the drive to write!

3\. Louis has seen death before, but when his father’s time comes it sneaks up on him and surprises him with venom that he does not expect.

He spends the last few hours of his father’s life by his bedside, listening to the rasp of the King’s breathing and watching the rise and fall of his chest. The king only wakes once, but he is not lucid and does little other than babble until the physician makes him sleep once more. When the time gets closer, and Louis is a getting a little tired, his mother appears.

Her eyes look red and raw and he knows she has been crying, silently he crawls into her arms and they watch the sun rise over Paris.

Perhaps what alerts them is that the room has finally gone quiet. Unable to bear it any longer, Louis lets out a strangled sob and buries his face in his mother’s neck. She calls for help and guards come rushing in, but there is nothing they can do and everybody knows it.

As his mother carries him from the room, Louis peeks out over her shoulder to catch a final glimpse of his father, to see that already they are stripping him of his clothes to dress him for the funeral.

With a cry Louis pushes himself from his mother’s arms and dashes back to the bed. His throat is thick and tears are streaming down his face as he pushes the men away.

“You can’t do that, he isn’t gone! I need him” He can see the pity flood their eyes and somehow hates them for it, his mother calls from the doorway, but he can’t leave his father now, not to be stripped and dressed before he has even begun to cool.

One of the physicians makes the mistake of stepping forward, Louis pushes him back hard in the stomach and when the man attempts to scoop him up, spins to pull a rapier from the rack at the end of his father’s bed. It’s longer than he is used to, but crouching in an attack position he can still hold it convincingly enough.

Now the men back away, the young prince’s skill with a sword is held in high regard within the palace, and they all know he would be capable of causing damage.

“Sire, I’m sorry, he’s gone.”

“Don’t say that!” Louis whips around to face the speaker and the men step back further. He is aware he must look desperate now, “Don’t say that!”

The man opens his mouth again but it is not his voice that fills the room.

“Enough!” The voice commands respect and Louis recognises it at once, Athos. “Out, everybody but the prince, get out.”

For a moment, some of the physicians look as if they are going to argue, but Aramis, d’Artagnan and Porthos are behind him and they know it is not a battle they will win. Bowing quickly to Louis they mutter and stumble from the room. He has half a mind to strip them of their jobs when they day is over.

The rapier falls to the exquisite floor with a clang and Louis is in Aramis’ arms before any of the men can blink. The man lifts him up with a strength his father never seemed to have and holds him close, whispering small comforts in his ears. They do not help but Louis appreciates the gesture all the same.

“Aramis, we do not have long,” Louis hears Athos warning his comforter, and feels Aramis nod in return.

“Louis, it’s time to say goodbye now,”

Louis just sobs and shakes his head,

“Louis, if you don’t do it now, you will regret it for the rest of your life, and it is not worth it, let me assure you” Aramis’s voice rumbles in his chest and his smell, that of gunpowder, leather and horses calms Louis, then a warm hand touches his cheek and he looks up. Aramis regards him silently for a moment before trying again,

“Louis?”

Louis sits for a long moment, legs wrapped around Aramis, hand straying to the man’s untameable hair like it did for comfort when he was younger. He should do this now, he decides, for he knows Aramis speaks the truth when he says Louis will regret not doing it.

Louis makes to wriggle free but a soft hand on his back stops him. Still holding him Aramis steps over the fallen rapier and makes his way to the side of the ornate bed. His father still looks as if he is sleeping and Louis cannot bear it.

Aramis places him down and he gently crawls across the bed to kneel by his father’s side. He places a palm on his father’s chest, almost flinching at the cool of it, and then he presses his lips to the King’s forehead.

“Goodbye Papa, I will try to make you proud.” It is barely a murmur, but Louis knows that in the silence of the room, everybody will have heard it. Breathing quickly he savours the moment, and concentrates deeply on remembering the face before him. It is not the face of a man he spent a lot of time with in the nine years he knew him, but a man he respected greatly, and always tried his best for.

There is a commotion outside the door and Louis knows his time is up. He is scooped up by Aramis and ushered from the room, this time he does not look back.

“Your father was, and always will be proud of you Louis” Aramis assures him as they navigate the palace, and Louis is grateful for the soldiers words, even if the mans voice does crack as he speaks. Everyone they pass bows deeply now, and Louis is suddenly very aware that he is to be king.

He knows he is crying again when he tastes the salt in his mouth, and he loses his fight with sleep before they make it to his rooms.


	4. Siege

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aramis is injured

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everybody who commented - sorry to say if I don't manage another chapter tonight (which I probably won't as I should be packing!) there wont be another till next Wednesday at the earliest. Sorry again - but enjoy this one!

4\. When the palace falls under siege, Louis is in his chambers. The only musketeer left to guard him is Porthos, but he is so preoccupied, by the thought of his friends out fighting Louis imagines, that his stories make no sense. Soon Louis stops prompting him and together they stand by the window and watch Paris in the night.

Louis is worried too, by the thought of Aramis, Athos and D’Artagnan out fighting in the city and he knows Porthos would be out there with them if he hadn’t injured his shoulder. He knows he shouldn’t be so attached to the men, that they should be nothing but guards to him, faces ready to spare their lives. But Louis has known these four men all his life, and they stand for everything he wants to be.

They are loyal, and thoughtful, and care more for their companions then they do themselves. Perhaps they mean more to him because they have always been so attentive to his needs personally, alongside of those of the country, and they have always been honest, never striving to protect him from the sometimes horrible truth. So Louis does care about them, and he wishes he could have done enough to prevent this siege, and stop them fighting.

Tired, Louis returns to bed. His mother often tells him he cannot lead the people yawning, and so for once he takes her advice and attempts to sleep. It takes a while to claim him, and even when it does it is uneasy and broken by the cries of a war.

He is awoken abruptly by voices outside his door. He can hear d’Artagnan clearly, and he thinks Athos too, but not Aramis, and this worries him. Porthos is quick to move from the window seat and let them in.

Aramis is with them it turns out, and Louis wants to wrap his arms around all of them in relief, but it quickly becomes apparent that all is not right.

“Louis!” Aramis’s statement is more of a gasp, and one arm is around each of his companions, whilst they support his waist. His hat is missing, and his hair is awry, Louis can see blood in his hairline and his jacket is ripped away from one shoulder to reveal a nasty looking wound.

d’Artagnan also looks haggard, limping with a nasty slash on his thigh and a cut on his cheek, but at least he can support himself. Athos perhaps is best off. With no obvious injuries he just looks tired, Louis can see blood on his face in the candle light but it doesn’t look like his own.

“Aramis, you’ve seen him now, we need to go stitch you up.” Athos looks worried and Louis is set on edge. Just as Aramis looks as if he is going to consent, his eyes roll back in his head and he slumps forwards. Louis watches in horror as Athos and d’Artagnan lower him to the floor.

“Aramis!” Louis calls with a cry, launching himself from the bed, he barely makes it two paces however before strong arms catch his middle,

“Easy boy, Athos and d’Artagnan will sort him out, but he doesn’t need jumping on,” Porthos’ rough tones do little to console Louis, who is already breaking out into sobs,

“He must stay here though, he cannot leave!”

“Sire, there is nowhere suitable to heal him here, he will be merely ten feet down the corridor, in the guards quarters”

Louis shakes his head at this, still struggling to control his panic. He cannot lose his Aramis now, not so soon after his father.

“Use my bed then” It is a desperate, final attempt, and he does not expect it to work, but then the arms around his middle are gone and Porthos is pulling at the covers,

“C’mon then, help me strip it” He says, glancing back at Louis.

Louis’ arms are shaking so badly he can hardly help, but together he and Porthos get rid of the covers and pillows and ornamental sheets, then d’Artagnan and Athos drag Aramis to the bed. Laying him on his front they strip him of his coat, and, after poking at the wound for a moment or two, cut off his t-shirt also.

Louis climbs up to sit next to Aramis’ head, and notices Athos and Porthos exchanging glances, but they say nothing and he doesn’t move.

The wound is right through his shoulder, and now Louis can see it was probably a musket ball. He recognises both an entrance and exit wound and winces, but does not feel sick as he expected to.

His tears are drying on his face now, and Athos and d’Artagnan work quickly and efficiently. Louis can see all sorts of scars littering Aramis’ back, a long one stretches from the bottom of his ribs to right below the line of his breeches, and the opposite shoulder has a puckered circle,

“Old Burn” Porthos grunts at his questioning glance, his large hands carefully checking Aramis’ head and bandaging the small wound he finds there.

Their work is memorizing to watch, the careful stitching Athos does is neat, although all three agree Aramis could have done it neater. Louis smiles at this, how loyal they are to their friend, right until the end.

After they have patched up Aramis, they go with d’Artagnan back to the guard room for now he is beginning to lag, and can barely stand, and they are all in desperate need of sleep.

Once they have left, Louis runs his fingers through the man’s hair, mindful of the small cut there, and watches his face as he sleeps.

Finally he does something he rarely does, and drops to his knees to pray, hands on the edge of the bed he closes his eyes, murmuring words of hope and peace and love, and thanks, to this god he is not quite sure he believes in yet.

When he reopens his eyes, a brown pair is watching him carefully. Aramis is awake.

“Who do you pray for sire?” The words are barely a mumble, and slurred, as if he has drunk a little too much, like the nobles at the feasts that were sometimes held.

Louis expects to feel embarrassment that he was caught like this, but he doesn’t, so he answers truthfully,

“You,” Then adds quickly, “I don’t want you to die”

Aramis laughs at this. It’s his kind carefree laugh, the first one Louis ever heard from him, and just like when he was five, he cannot help but smile in return.

“They will have to try harder to get rid of me, surely you know that by now Louis,”

And Louis nods, but obviously doesn’t look reassured enough, because Aramis continues,

“I’m not going anywhere Louis, I promise that,” And his face is serious now, and he reaches over with his good arm to run his fingers into Louis’ hair, then pats the bed beside himself, “Come here, you look like you need some sleep, why aren’t you in bed?”

“Because you’re in it!” Louis exclaims, and cannot help but laugh at the look on Aramis’ face as he squints around the room, groaning when he tries to lift his head,

“So I am, we will have to share then.” And Aramis’ eyes begin to close again,

With a smile Louis hops up beside him, and snuggles down under his good arm. Aramis smells like Aramis, and soon they both sleep.

He is woken by his mother leaning over the pair of them. She pushes his hair back from his face but he pretends to be asleep, he doesn’t want to move.

Then she does something he is not expecting, and leans over to kiss Aramis’ forehead, the man mumbles something and Anne laughs, but Louis doesn’t catch it. Then he speaks again,

“Come join us Anna, then I will be surrounded by my favourite people,”

Louis waits for his mother to say no, to reprimand Aramis, and remind him that he is a musketeer and she is the queen, like his father used to do when Aramis got too bold with the prince. But she doesn’t.

Louis feels her lie behind him and reach over to stroke Aramis’ cheek,

“My boys” She murmurs. “I am so very lucky,”

And Louis, lying between his mother and his protector, thinks exactly the same thing.

 

 

 


	5. AUTHORS NOTE

It's been almost a year since I updated now and I think perhaps as I still receive kudos and comments and follows on this story very regularly a explanation is required. 

I stopped writing last year after my father took his own life - I'm actually reasonably young in writing terms and he was a massive part of my life. I've struggled to get back into the swing of things (I'm now looking to fail my finals after years of straight a's), and writing, and reading fan fiction ground to a halt. This is perhaps more than I needed to say but I think I may update one last time - once these exams are past and my life is less hectic. 

Thank you to everyone who continues to applause this little story - it always makes me smile to read the emails.


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